


In the Spirit of Giving In

by stardropdream (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hetalia Kink Meme, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:58:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the cold, dark nights in the heat of war, Alfred decides that Arthur needs to relax more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Spirit of Giving In

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the Hetalia kink meme and then reposted to LJ August 22, 2010.

  
Quick, without restraint, Arthur kicked his blanket off his body, and slammed Alfred’s head back onto the floor. He shoved Alfred to the ground, hand against his throat. “What,” he gasped out, still blinking awake from the long sleep that came with war, trying to comprehend his surroundings after waking so abruptly, “do you think you’re doing?”  
  
Alfred’s body was tense, his eyes widened from the sudden movement—from the sudden realization that someone had managed to pin him. His body was taut, curled into a tight ball of danger, ready to spring if necessary, ready to fight back. It was always a strange dichotomy from the boy—the ability to be so carefree, bright blue eyes playful, and then for the ability to fight back, to make someone sit up and take notice, a bomb-shaped man ready to explode when necessary. Alfred regarded him cautiously, prideful, as if he had not just been cornered and conquered by an injured man. Yet, there was no usual lack of care, here. Just almost gentle surveillance.   
  
“Well,” Alfred said, licking his lips, his glasses knocked slightly askew from the sudden movement to the floor, the small fall from the mattress to the ground. But it seemed that whatever was meant to follow that ‘well’ wasn’t going to be forthcoming and Arthur felt his body tense up.  
  
The room was dark, it was night—England had been in blackout for months, even though with both the USA and the USSR in the war with him now the bombings from Germany were less frequent, they were not infrequent enough that Arthur could sleep peacefully. Arthur’s legs were tangled in the sheets, and the trousers he slept in—old army fatigues—were propped open, the belt hanging around his hips, his half-hard cock begging for attention. The night breeze brushed over the cooling trails Alfred’s mouth had left on his cock before Arthur had woken up and shoved the younger nation to the floor.   
  
Alfred, despite the almost strangulation threatening with the palm of Arthur’s hand against his throat, seemed almost deceptively calm. Calm, despite the tension in his shoulders, the tilt of his chin—defiance.   
  
“What are you doing?” Arthur repeated.  
  
“I was sucking you off,” Alfred said, placidly, “At least. I was trying to.”   
  
“I can see that!”  
  
“Didn’t really go as planned,” Alfred said, still just as calmly.   
  
Arthur felt as if he was going to have a conniption and a hernia all in one go. “Didn’t go as planned?” he parroted, trying his best not to shriek—it was too late, or too early, for things like this. And just as soon as he’d had a decent night’s sleep, as well. “What—you were planning to blow me _while I was sleeping?_ ”  
  
“I figured you would wake up. Didn’t expect to be choked,” Alfred said, and had the audacity to roll his eyes. He lifted a hand, touching Arthur’s wrist, and Arthur almost jerked his hand back—except that would be weakness. So he just glared.   
  
Arthur’s hand slackened though, just slightly, but for someone like Alfred, that was enough. He shifted, pushed Arthur this time onto his back, twisted him off balance and perched himself on top of Arthur. The hand fell away from Alfred’s neck and flopped to the ground, and Arthur frowned up at the other nation.  
  
“And how did you get this brilliant idea?”  
  
“Thought it’d relax you…”  
  
“What the—you daft twat!” Arthur shouted. “What makes you think that waking up in the middle of the night to someone’s mouth around my cock could possibly be _relaxing_?”  
  
“I give really good head,” Alfred said matter-of-factly and with such nonchalance that Arthur nearly choked on air.  
  
He slapped Alfred upside the head for his troubles. “You— _you_! And what makes you think I need relaxing?”  
  
Alfred gave him a look and Arthur felt as if strangulation might have been the best course of action when dealing with this young upstart.   
  
“For fuck’s sake,” Arthur groaned, closing his eyes.   
  
“I’m serious,” Alfred whispered. “I know this is gonna sound, ha ha, cocky—” He ignored the look Arthur shot him, full of venom and contempt “—but I am seriously the best head you’re ever going to get.”   
  
“And how can you be so sure?” Arthur asked, tipping his head up defiantly.   
  
Alfred grinned, all white teeth and enthusiasm. “You can see for yourself—if you really need the convincing.”  
  
“This doesn’t really answer the question as to _why_ you’re even here in the first place. It’s the middle of the night,” Arthur groaned.  
  
“You’ve been working hard, putting up one hell of a fight,” Alfred said, and despite the stupidity of his kindness, perhaps misguided, he did almost seem concerned. “I figured you needed to relax a little, know at least someone appreciates your efforts.”  
  
Arthur eyed him. He meant to speak in only thick venom, dry contempt, but it came out almost as a question: “You appreciate my efforts.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
There was a light curve of Alfred’s mouth, almost gentle. In the dark of the night, he seemed almost alien, as if it was only another apparition to visit England’s shores, creatures that only Arthur could see. His eyes seemed to glow.  
  
“I’m injured,” Arthur reminded, and it was true. After months of the Blitz, and then warfare into North Africa and Europe with the other allies had left his body slightly weakened, had left him feeling fatigued, injured, and unimportant. It’d only been recently that he’d been able to take his arm out of a sling, but his body was still peppered with bruises, cuts, and a soreness that would probably take years to unwind.  
  
“All the more reason for me to give you some much needed relaxation. Think of it as therapy for your recovery,” Alfred said, downright coy.   
  
“I don’t understand why you—”  
  
Alfred cut him off, leaning in and kissing him, softly. Silenced all protests. Arthur’s breath hitched, eyes wide, unsure what to make of the gesture—  
  
Oh.  
  
It was strange, when he suddenly found himself in situations such as this. But then again, he liked (hoped) to think that Alfred didn’t go around sucking on everyone’s cocks while they were sleeping. He couldn’t know for sure, and his chest ached. He was always being pressed, to open up, to toughen up—to be. But it was hard to be so vulnerable, himself. To let others in.   
  
Alfred pulled away, but stayed close. Impossibly blue eyes watched him, and Arthur watched him back, his throat suddenly far too dry. Alfred smiled, and for one brief second he saw a vulnerability reflected in his eyes, below the boasting, the overwhelming confidence. And there was a hand on his cock now—oh.   
  
Arthur’s heart throbbed. Vulnerability. It’d been a long time.   
  
Maybe it was because he’d never thought to give up this much of himself to someone, to let someone see him almost cry, to watch his body fall apart—but Alfred had seen so many things of Arthur, despite their years (generations) of separation, despite the old memories burning in the pit of his stomach like dying embers. Fighting beside him, knowing that, underneath it all, Alfred wanted to help, even if he was so stupidly confident and self-centered that at times it seemed as if Alfred could never have cared for Arthur. Arthur couldn’t say for sure that he regretted knowing the boy, but at the same time he worried that, even after so long, he still hadn’t found the man that Alfred had become.   
  
Alfred kissed him again, moving in slowly so that Arthur could push him away if he so wanted. But instead Arthur tilted his head back, tilted up into his touch. Their mouths slanted together and Arthur kissed Alfred, feeling himself absorb into him. Maybe he was just simply too tired to hold it in anymore, perhaps he was done with hiding until the last moment, the last instance between wavering and breaking. Maybe he just wanted to kiss Alfred, let Alfred kiss him.   
  
The moon was low in the sky. The night breeze ruffled the ratty curtains covering his windows. It was almost perfectly dark. There were no lights in London, only hiding in the fear of bombs, of sirens. Alfred curled his fingers into Arthur’s hair and kissed him, their tongues dovetailing together, eyelids fluttering.   
  
Then again, maybe it was just waking up to Alfred giving him a blowjob as he if had something to prove. That was certainly a way to short-circuit an otherwise very rational and calm-thinking gentleman such as himself.   
  
It definitely didn’t help that just from Alfred’s mouth against his own his cock was hardening instead of softening, and the hand there was definitely distracting, fingers thrumming along his skin, up and down experimentally. He swallowed the small gasp that bubbled past Arthur’s throat.   
  
“So relax,” Alfred said when he pulled away.  
  
Arthur stared at him tight-lipped, tried not to betray how the way Alfred was smiling was intoxicating, and the hand on his cock, and the touch of lips against his—  
  
He just nodded, and, smiling in triumph, Alfred pulled Arthur to his feet and set him down on the bed, sitting. He pushed his legs apart and knelt between them, looking up at him, hands on his hips.   
  
“You better not be doing this out of some misguided sense of duty,” Arthur whispered as Alfred pulled the pants down off his body. He pulled his shirt off and one of Alfred’s hands passed over his chest, resting on the breathless rise and fall of his stomach.   
  
Alfred didn’t look affronted, but there was a brief moment when surprise blossomed across his face. It was quickly replaced by a small smile as he slipped his glasses off and rested them on the bedside table. He shook his head.   
  
“I want to.”  
  
Arthur was breathing a little harder now, shock and desire thrumming with heat, the painful pulse of his still healing wounds winding around the arousal. His clothes were gone now and Alfred was looking up at him from between his legs, his lips already slightly swollen from their kissing, his cheeks a rosy, healthy pink. So healthy. Even in war, so, so beautiful—  
  
Fingers were dragging across his cock, thumbing around the head. Arthur didn’t have time to say anything before Alfred ducked his head and took the head of Arthur’s cock into his mouth, sucking. Arthur managed to swallow the cry, but not before he felt he would suffocate from the warm heat. Alfred’s tongue laved at his feverish skin. Despite himself, Arthur felt his fingers curl into Alfred’s hair, hesitant, not sure if the boy wanted to be touched but desperately wanting to be touched.  
  
“Hm,” Alfred hummed in encouragement around his cock and it sent shockwaves up his nerve ends. Arthur shivered, fingers in his hair. Alfred dragged his palm over the base of Arthur’s cock as his mouth worked the tip.   
  
The tongue lapped at his slit before pulling away, and he held his cock almost reverently as he pillowed his lips over the length, eyes flickering up to stare at Arthur and it was almost as if there were stars in his eyes, or perhaps it was the stars in Arthur’s own vision. Alfred watched him without wavering as he kissed along the length of Arthur’s rigid cock, then along his pelvic bone, the sharp cut of his hip bones, over his inner thighs. His breath was hot, ragged, shallow against his skin. Alfred scooted closer, hands on him, mouth on him.  
  
He kissed along the underside, following the trail the thick vein left there, tongue darting out between swelling lips to trace the ridge between his dusty cockhead and the length of his cock. One hand lifted, cupping his balls and massaging them with expert care as his mouth kissed the tip of Arthur’s cock, before collecting it once again into his mouth. He sucked gently, inhaled and exhaled around the cockhead and Arthur feared how quickly already the boy could send him near the edge, without anything to catch him before he went tumbling. He tipped his head back and found he missed watching Alfred, missed holding Alfred’s eyes.  
  
He stared at the ceiling as he felt Alfred’s stupidly talented tongue bathe his cock in his hot breath and kisses. And without being able to see Alfred, he could hear the indecent sounds he made, the sucking, the wet noises, the swallows, the moans, the hums, the small little exhales that might have been Arthur’s name.   
  
Arthur shivered and Alfred drew him closer, drew him further and further into incoherency. Alfred below him—moaning, gasping, whispering, sucking, kissing—  
  
Mouth swollen, lips red, eyes sparkling—  
  
The fingers in Alfred’s hair and tightened, tugging slightly. “Alfred,” he gasped, “Alfred…”  
  
Alfred moaned in reply, and it vibrated down the length of his cock as Alfred paid his worship to Arthur’s cock, sucking on the cockhead, kissing down the length to his base, where he migrated lower, kissing each ball, licking and making those stupid, stupid noises that sent Arthur closer and closer to the edge. Alfred sucked one of the balls into his mouth, massaged it with his tongue and with the tight heat of his mouth, his fingers massaging its twin while his free hand thumbed at his cockhead.   
  
“Alfred…” Arthur breathed, biting his lip and holding back from thrusting up into that warm mouth.  
  
Alfred pulled away grinning, hands dancing over his thigh. “Don’t hold back, old man.”  
  
“I—” Arthur began.  
  
“I won’t choke,” Alfred said, and opened his mouth to take the cock into his mouth again, further this time, slinking past the cockhead, down the length. He paused, letting Arthur adjust to the surrounding heat, the pass of a tongue massaging the underside of his cock. Arthur breathed harshly through his mouth, his nostrils flaring, his entire body strumming like a taut bow, waiting to release that arrow. Alfred held him, and then Arthur watched as the boy loosened his throat, saw his body relax and his eyes flicker down as he pushed forward. Arthur felt his cockhead brush the back of the boy’s throat, expected him to choke, to draw back and suck in air greedily. But it didn’t come, and it was with a twitch of his cock that he realized that Alfred didn’t have a gag reflex, was just loosening himself up to take all of Arthur into his mouth.   
  
The fingers in Alfred’s hair tugged, pulling the face closer to the base of his cock. Alfred moaned, slightly, did not choke.   
  
“Good lad,” Arthur gasped as Alfred’s throat loosened and he took him all the way in, up until he felt Alfred’s nose brushing against the skin of his pelvis. He stroked the hair, brushing it away from his face, watched those eyes flicker up at him, cock in his mouth. “Dear lad, sweet lad. Yes. Alfred…”  
  
Alfred managed to smile around the cock in his mouth, tongue pressed flat against the feverish skin, throat relaxed and open to him. He pulled back just slightly and Arthur almost moaned from the loss, except that Alfred brought his face back, bobbing his head along Arthur’s cock. Arthur’s breath caught, hands gripped his head, and thrust into his mouth—almost expecting him to choke. But still he opened to him, eyes fluttering, face flushed.   
  
“Fuck,” Arthur gasped and thrust into that eager mouth, hands moving Alfred up and down against his cock. Alfred was compliant, moving with him, swallowing around his cock with those same, indecent noises of his, now muffled, now lodging deep into every corner of his body, starting from his cock and working up.   
  
He continued to thrust, and Alfred continued to take him in, encouraged on by Arthur’s gasps, soft exhalations of his name, tugging on his hair to draw him closer and closer. He knew he would not last long, wanted to see Alfred swallow him.   
  
Alfred worked him, bobbing his head, hands massaging his balls and smoothing over his skin. His eyelids fluttered as he looked up at Arthur, took in his expression, and then looked back down at the task at hand.  
  
“Alfred,” Arthur pleaded and the young man looked up at him, blue eyes bright, mouth open for him, lips red and swollen. “Alfred…”  
  
He thrust weakly against him and fell back slightly as Alfred took charge again, pulling away, freeing his mouth from around Arthur’s cock. The air felt too cold, felt too distant not being buried inside Alfred’s mouth, not feeling his throat constrict around his cockhead, not feel his tongue passing over his skin.   
  
But Alfred continued to kiss at his cock, rock hard. Alfred licked and kissed at the cockhead, tongue curling around it, mouth sucking on it.  
  
“God, Arthur,” Alfred moaned and Arthur shook. Alfred tilted his head, taking Arthur’s cockhead into his mouth again, pushed it into his cheek, passed it over his tongue. Arthur watched in fascination, watched the way his tongue lapped at his cock, eager to taste him and have him, watched his cockhead poke against his cheek. Alfred sucked, made his indecent noises.   
  
“Yes,” Arthur gasped.  
  
“Arthur,” Alfred murmured, sucking the cock to the back of his throat again, let Arthur thrust weakly into him some more, body shaking.   
  
Alfred took Arthur’s cock into his mouth and did not let go, sucking and licking until with one last thrust Arthur felt his body tense up, and felt himself thrust into Alfred’s mouth, watching it fill with his cum. Arthur swallowed it with gusto, his eyes falling shut as he moaned around Arthur’s cock. Arthur watched him suck him, pumping him with one hand, watched as one little drizzle of white slipped past the corner of Alfred’s mouth and slip down his cheek.   
  
Fuck.  
  
Arthur tangled his fingers in Alfred’s hair as the young nation sucked him off until he was dry, soft in his hold but still trying to thrust into Alfred. When he was certain he was spent, Alfred pulled away, smiling widely. He lifted his hand, thumbed at the small bit of cum on his face, and licked at it in a way that could only be lewd. His blue eyes watched him, and Arthur couldn’t look away, body tensed and chest heaving from the activity.   
  
“Arthur?” Alfred murmured, leaning up to kiss at Arthur’s mouth. His lips were enflamed, swollen, and his mouth opened just to him. Arthur traced his tongue over the places his cock had been, exploring Alfred’s mouth and cradling his face almost tenderly.   
  
“Fuck,” was all Arthur could manage to say when they pulled away. Alfred grinned at him and pushed the older nation onto his back. “I don’t even want to know where you learned to do that, lad.”  
  
Alfred kissed at the corner of his mouth, hand traveling up his chest idly.   
  
“Trade secret,” he breathed against the curve of Arthur’s jaw as he dipped to kiss at his neck.   
  
“And what of you?” Arthur muttered, lifting his knee to press against where there was an obvious bulge in Alfred’s pants.  
  
Alfred’s eyes shut for a moment and his breathing came quicker.  
  
“Ha ha, I’m fine.”  
  
“Like hell,” Arthur said, a deep exhalation. “While I doubt that I’m nearly as talented as you…”  
  
He paused, then turned, pushing Alfred onto his back, pushing his shirt up over his chest so he could pass his hand over his skin. His eyes flickered mischievously, and he smirked.  
  
“I think I can find one or two things to do with you.”  
  
Alfred’s face lit up, face still flushed, mouth still open and needy and swollen— _fuck._  
  
“Show me what you got, old man.”  
  
And Arthur did just that.


End file.
